


i was the only child of the universe (then i found you)

by RUHX



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Canon, no beta we die like men, soft William Schofield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27061489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RUHX/pseuds/RUHX
Summary: Blakefield Kisstober 2020: Day 17, Height Difference KissesFollows on directly frommy first promptbut can be read as a standalone. Intending to use both fics as a basis for a larger Blakefield work.In which Tom has a nightmare Will soothes and leads into sleepy morning kisses with height difference.
Relationships: Blakefield - Relationship, Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29
Collections: Blakefield Kisstober 2020





	i was the only child of the universe (then i found you)

When Will went to sleep it’d been raining, a steady and constant drum beat slapping against the canvas of the tent. He wakes up with a start from a dream he doesn’t remember, chest heaving and not quite understanding his location, the cotton fabric of his shirt feeling damp from cold sweat. He settles fast when he orients himself and takes stock of his surroundings. Still in that tiny tent behind the lines, still somewhere in France. The rain’s not so heavy now, a light pitter-patter and the wind has died down somewhat, it’s mournful melody still whistles through the trees. 

Tom’s still sleeping but it doesn’t look peaceful, Will can’t see Tom’s face in the dark but he can hear Tom’s sharp intake of breath, hear the rustle of Tom fidgeting under the sheets. 

“Tom?” Will calls out softly. Tom doesn’t respond, lets out a broken _no, please,_ and Will leans over to give Tom a nudge that’s enough to throw him out of the dream with a sharp gasping breath. 

“Scho?” Tom asks quietly, voice broken. How Tom’s voice threatens to break makes Will’s heart do a funny little jolt he can’t explain or place, makes him want to reach out and soothe. Bundle Tom up in his arms and make the hurt of the dream go away.

“I’m here,” Will says softly, reaches out and their hands tumble in the dark trying to find one another but eventually connect, fingers lacing together. Will doesn’t comment on how Tom white knuckles his grip. Instead he runs a thumb across Tom’s, waiting for Tom to talk when he’s ready. He doesn’t, stays silent just focusing on his breathing, focusing on taking careful measured breaths just how Will had taught him. Will gives Tom a little tug, inviting him over. 

Tom goes gingerly as he always does but there seems to be a new layer of uncertainty there, which Will suspects stems from their first kiss earlier that evening. Will invites him under the covers with open arms, embracing Tom into a tight hug. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Will asks, voice still soft and barely above a whisper. 

“No,” Tom says, he sounds so tired, the way his mouth shapes out the word with such effort. Will doesn’t pry further. 

The wind picks up then, a sudden gust that slaps against the canvas of the tent. Will feels Tom full body flinch and instinctively pulls Tom closer to him. Tom goes easily, hiding in the warmth of Will’s chest and curling into him. They get comfortable and eventually Tom drifts back to sleep with their foreheads pressed together and his hand resting on Will’s stomach, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breaths. Will falls asleep not long after Tom.

Will wakes from a dream he doesn’t remember, the first light of dawn starting to break through the murk of the cloud though it seems like a losing battle, the cloud winning and obscuring the warmth of the sun. Tom’s still curled beside him. Will has no sense of time, only that it’s the second day of being out of the lines after an eight day stint of being heavily shelled. It’s not light enough to glance at his watch but Will can hear the distant notes of another dawn barrage. 

He’s content to stay here until the bugler wakes up the camp but he also needs to stretch out his back and arms, stiff and half asleep from lying awkwardly to fit Tom in alongside him. Not that he begrudges that at all, any additional day Tom lives Will takes as a gift. Tom shuffles and mumbles odd comments as he wakes up a little before dropping off again and Will takes these moments to move and shuffle into an upright position, Tom moves with him mumbling something Will doesn’t quite catch so his head rests in Will’s lap.

Damp canvas knocks against Will’s head as he tries to get into a comfortable seated position forcing him to slouch slightly. He stretches awkwardly around Tom, working out the kinks. Tom’s still dozing in and out of a light sleep but sometimes wakes up for long enough to start odd threads of conversations that go nowhere, where Will responds but Tom’s already drifted back to sleep. 

Will reckons there’s still an hour or so left before they have to get up and he’s content to sit like this, with Tom still curled up in his lap but Will can’t get comfortable. He disturbs Tom trying to move his knee and stretch it out more, Tom who looks at him accusingly, hair askew from sleep. 

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, throwing an apologetic glance Tom’s way.

“You should be I was enjoying that dream,” Tom murmurs bitterly but Will lets the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile knowing Tom was resting pleasantly. 

“Mama’s cherry pies?” Will asks, lets his hand card through Tom’s hair. Tom makes a noncommittal noise.

“Long walks through orchards, spring was mild so the blossoms were just starting to bloom,” Tom smiles, lost in the happy memories. 

“Sounds nostalgic,” Will comments. 

“It was,” Tom tries to smile but he seems lost now, gaze unfocused and distant, looking at nothing in particular. No smart stories or jokes to fill in the quiet whilst he’s still waking up, mind still clouded from sleep. Instead the emptiness eats away at the small space they share of the little tent that barely seems big enough for both of them, that’s barely able to keep out the elements. Not being much of a talker himself, Will’s at a loss for what to do. He doesn’t know how to fill the void in Tom’s heart, doesn’t know what comforting words to offer. Can’t tell Tom he’ll get to experience that again soon when tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, especially not out here. 

So lost for how best to express comfort and reassurance, Will bends down, cups Tom’s face in both hands and kisses his forehead at first. Tom breathes out a sharp breath and rolls over, hand running up to brush over Will’s cheek. Tom wiggles trying to get comfortable, dislodging some of the covers in the process and shivering at the cold. Will leans over Tom to replace them and when he moves back Tom pulls him down to kiss. 

The angle’s not right and their noses bump together but it’s _Tom_ and Will savors the moment anyway, just being able to feel Tom’s exhales against his cheek as the kiss deepens. Will tries to find a better angle to make their position work with varying success, only finally breaking away when interrupted by the bugle playing a wake-up call, the raucous din of someone inexperienced thumbing through the notes echoing throughout the camp. 

Will breaks away with a sigh, thumb running down Tom’s cheek, wishing he had more time to appreciate the time he has with Tom, seeing this more vulnerable softer side of him he never knew existed. 

They get ready quickly yet not rushing, go muster at the camp’s quadrangle with the rest of the battalion and Will can’t help but drift on thoughts of what life at home would be like with Tom, how they could make it work and _thrive_ as the divisional inspection drags on and on throughout the better part of the morning. He thinks about the orchard Tom had talked about, imagines those walks in the setting sun, just the two of them as pink blossoms drift lazily down on the wind brushing against their skin. Tries to imagine how the fading warmth of the day would feel before he’s snapped right out of it and back into work mode, the thoughts pushed to the back of his mind to linger on during the next quiet moment.


End file.
